NYPD Officer Brinkman sighed as he blew the steam off his coffee before taking a sip. This evening had been one of those cold, November chilly ones that begged the officer to consider taking a desk job. But he loved the streets too much, and although his seniority afforded him the luxury of the choice, he still preferred to walk a beat to anything else.  

And he had been walking this beat for the past 20 years.  

As he drank his coffee, his sharp eyes roved over the other patrons in the small café until they came to a stop on a teenager who was sitting with his back to the cop, nursing his own hot drink.  

There was something about the kid that set off warning bells in the officer’s mind, and he scrutinized him carefully.  

He figured the kid to be seventeen or eighteen at the most. Blond-haired, the boy was muscular but not in a weight-lifter way, it reminded the cop more of a football player’s physique than anything.  

Frowning, he wondered what it was about the kid that was riddling his instincts.  

And then he froze….No, it couldn’t be….Many kids in New York fit that basic description….What were the chances…?  

But what if it was?  

He, like the rest of the force, was very familiar with the sad goings-on in Bayport two years ago, involving the family of one of their own – an ex-NYPD officer. And if there was even a chance that this kid was the one they were looking for…well, Officer Brinkman was not about to be the one who let him get by.  

So finishing his coffee, the officer got up and headed towards the front of the café. He needed to see the kid’s face to be sure.  

Fenton Hardy had sent a recent picture of his son Joe for reference, and Brinkman decided that that was perhaps the best thing about the kid they were looking for – he was a twin.  

Being a twin made it easy to figure out what he would look like now.  

Passing the kid, the cop glanced down into his face and his heart pounded in his chest when the kid glanced right up into his eyes, and they recognized each other.  

The cop saw William Doe.  

William Doe saw a cop.  

Instantly, the kid was on his feet and racing towards the back of the café with Brinkman in hot pursuit, keying his shoulder mike for assistance.

* * *

William cursed under his breath as he ran. Damn it, he’d been made!  

Glancing behind him as he barreled out the back door of the café, he figured the older cop wouldn’t be in any shape to pursue him too far. His biggest danger would be the backup he knew the cop would have already requested.  

The teenager had been on the run for two years now, and he had no intention of being caught tonight!  

Barging into the road, Will deftly skirted traffic as he headed towards the waterfront. He had friends down there, and it would be easy to elude whoever followed him.

* * *

Brinkman was in better shape than the fleeing teen gave him credit for, and kept up as Will dodged traffic and bowled over anyone who got in his way.  

The pedestrians actually helped, as everyone he ran into cost the kid a couple of seconds. And in this race, every second counted.  

“…heading…towards…waterfront…” the cop managed to gasp into his mike as he ran. He could already hear the sirens of his approaching backup – you’re not getting away this time, the determined older man thought, no sirree – not this time!

* * *

Of course, he had no way of knowing that William had other plans – plans that included not getting caught.  

Growing desperate as he realized he was not losing the officer, and hearing the sirens getting closer, William raced across another intersection, barely managing to not get hit.  

Officer Brinkman wasn’t as lucky.  

The last thing he thought as he felt the front end of a truck hit him was…sorry Fenton…I tried….

* * *

William heard the sound and turned in time to see the officer go down under the truck.  

Damn, he cursed, damn, damn! This was not good.  

This meant it would no longer be safe for him in New York .  There would be too much heat on him, and his new friends would not want anything to do with him.  

No, as he raced away from the scene, he made up his mind about what he had to do.  

It was time to go home.